when we speak it is with brave touches and tugs of hair
Tag: Elancharan
passed down from ages before the art of daydreaming
a toast to the free falling feelings of phantom pain
death to the writer he whose body is now but a dream
oh the sweet craft of sculpting words with the mind’s katana
a strange celebration of flesh forced to police my own thoughts
summer green spider extends a web thread of hope
the mundane conversion of tears to frostfires
dream body be still body ignite faces
will the writer in me follow when this soul departs
elancharan gunasekaran 